Bittersweet
by Kyoyama Daphne
Summary: Love is your weakness that awakens your strength. - A collection of drabbles and oneshots surrounding Yoh and Anna in their lives both together and without. 3rd part: "Surreptitious" - posted!
1. Prologue

**- BITTERSWEET – **

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_**A collection of short oneshots surrounding Yoh and Anna in various parts of their lives; both together and without.**_

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"It doesn't matter how long we may have been stuck in a sense of our limitations. If we go into a darkened room and turn on the light, it doesn't matter if the room has been dark for a day, a week, or ten thousand years - we turn on the light and it is illuminated. Once we control our capacity for love and happiness, the light has been turned on."

- Sharon Salzberg

….

_My oneshot "Reminds Me of You" has been added as the first story of this collection; and many more are on the way. There will be many different genres and ratingsin this collection; but for now I'm keeping it rated T._

_._

_I hope you enjoy these little drabbles…._

_-Daphne _


	2. Reminds Me of You

**/A.N/ so here's my second fanfic, please R&R, hope you like it! All comments accepted…**

**Reminds Me of You**

Anna paced down the hall fort the fourth time. Yoh was late. It was already 6 o'clock, and she was getting hungry. "I don't want bot my fiancé _and _my diner to be late" she thought to herself. After a few more minutes of manic pacing, she found herself wandering around in the living room. _Well, might aswell make the most of it… _She plopped down on the couch and turned on the TV, one of her soap operas was doing a re-run. She left the channel at that and tried to watch. Her eyelids were already getting heavy, so she decided to just give in to sleep.

_Clanc. Clanc._

Anna's eyes fluttered open and she looked around, taking in her surroundings. She had fallen asleep on the couch. Someone was in the kitchen. She could hear the faint clanking of utensils. "Yoh?" she yelled. A spiky-haired head poked in, the room. "Oh, you're up? Dinner's almost done, come take a seat…" he said calmly and returned to the kitchen. Anna slowly got up and followed him down the hall. "Ow…" she muttered, rubbing her neck. She hadn't fallen asleep somewhere you could exactly call "comfortable". When she entered the kitchen, Yoh was still stirring while humming lightly. "What's for dinner?"

"Miso Soup"

"Hmn"

They ate their dinner in silence, they rarely ever talked; except for Anna's comment or pointers on

how to cook better. Today, she didn't say a word.

Anna returned to the living room shortly, and left Yoh to do the dishes. Once she was gone, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch. He grinned at and dropped it back. He wanted to finish his chores as soon as possible.

_Hmm… I forgot to ask him why he was late… Why don't I ask him now? _Just as she was about to call Yoh, he ran into the room with his usual goofy smile plastered on his face. _That's convenient… _"I got something for you!" he said chirpily. Anna just gaped. She definitely hadn't expected this. Yoh reached into his pocket and produced a small silk pouch. _So this is why he was late…_ He dumped its contents into his palm and offered it to Anna. She was dumbstruck. There, lying in his hand was a single clear crystal on a delicate silver chain. Yoh held it up; it caught the light and glinted. "It's so… beautiful" said Anna in awe. "Yeah? It caught my eye when I was on my way to the grocery store, and I just…" he trailed off as he saw a small smile on the corner of Anna's lips. It was barely visible, but it was still a smile. "You know you look really pretty when you smile…"said Yoh fondly.

**SLAP**

"Oww! What was that for?"

"Never call me that again!"

"So what, you want me to call you ugly?"

**SLAP**

"Owww! Now what was _that _for?"

"Being Stupid" she smirked.

Even though his cheek still hurt, Yoh managed a bright smile of his own. He studied the crystal in his hand. "You know, it reminds me of you…" he said thoughtfully.

"How so?"

Yoh closed his fingers around the prism. "Well, it's sharp…and cold". Anna's face fell. She looked down at her hands. "That's why it reminds me of you?" she said somberly, but there was still a hint of her usual icy tone. "It's beautiful, delicate…" he continued. He had fully prepared himself for another slap, but none came… "And I loved it from the moment I saw it…"

Anna's head shot up at that. "You.. what?"

Yoh smiled his trademark smile. "I said I loved it from the minute I saw it."

Another smile graced her lips, and Yoh's smile grew even wider. He got up and placed the necklace gently around Anna's neck. She almost jumped when she felt Yoh's hand on her shoulder. "Night Anna…" he whispered, before climbing up the stairs.

Her smile never fell off her face. She reached for the crystal dangling on her neck. It still held the warmth of Yoh's hand. She closed her fingers around it and shut her eyes.

_I _am_ cold Yoh… But you've made me warm…_


	3. Salvation

**Salvation**

**.**

She stares out the window of her twilit room, watching the outside world from her perch. Her eyes occasionally dart to the clear droplets of rain that hang on the glass surface, she watches them slither down and eventually disappear. Some merge with others, and they slide down together. Then her eyes focus once more on the real object of her interest. He is still there.

Her eyes follow him as he gets up and pulls his rain-soaked hair out of his eyes. Breathing heavily, perhaps even panting, he jogs over to the edge of the road, and without wasting so much as a second, starts to run. Soon, he vanishes from sight.

She sighs, getting up from her watching spot and plopping down on her bed. It will take him at least ten minutes to finish the lap; then he'll have twenty more. Hair spread across her pillow, she closes her eyes. Pictures and scenes appear before her closed eyelids; pictures of him, pictures of her, pictures of _them. _He saved her. And now she must pay her debt. The price of salvation is a high one; but it must be done.

She must keep him alive through everything. Even if it means he must suffer from it now. The suffering of training, however, is nothing compared to what could happen to him if he is weak. No, she won't allow it. She _must_ make him strong; even if it means she'll have to go through this moral atrophy.

She shudders, remembering what she used to be, recalling the clash of emotions she felt every day; and the chaotic voices that plagued her mind every waking second, sometimes even in her sleep. Those days are behind her, but they are part of her past that she cannot simply forget on her own.

_He _makes her forget. He makes her forget everything.

The awful person she used to be – of whom she still carries traces of; the pain, the suffering…all of it fades away when he is near. Then she pushes him away. She must push him away. For his own good.

She wants to open her eyes, but a small part of her stops her each time she tries; telling her to concentrate on the images she is pulling back from her past, the moments she cherishes the most; willing her to escape the reality of today where they must both spend their hours in solitude. She exhales. She is used to it. She accepts it. As if she has a choice… Her memories slowly morph into dreams as sleep overtakes her.

…

Her eyes shoot open as she awakens. She is breathless, her eyes still full of fear. _A dream _she thinks. _Just a dream. _Images from her nightmare flash across her eyes. She squeezes them closed tight, but finds this only makes the pictures more vivid. She brushes away the clammy sweat off her forehead and sits up in her bed. The moonlight that streams through the window casts eerie shadows along the room. Something falls to the floor from her lap. A blanket. She stares at it for a moment, trying to remember how it got there, but fails.

She stands up, knowing that if she sleeps again, the same images from before will plague her dreams again. She reaches for the blanket lying on the floor and picks it up. Somewhere in th inner recesses of her mind, she knows how it got there. Walking out the door, she leaves all the chains that bind her to the rational world behind her. She rids herself of all doubts, all limitations – anything and everything that ties her hands together and prevents her from moving. Rationality? Who needs it?

Her footfalls are silent against the wooden plated floors of the En inn. The blanket tucked under her arm, she walks down the dark corridor, trying to sense the energy that comes from one particular room. When she rounds a corner, without even thinking, she pulls the door open and steps inside.

The room is silent, just like the rest of the house. The window is left open, and a chilly breeze swirls around the room, making the curtains flutter like waves. She walks to the window, watching the tall shadows her lithe form casts on the walls. Shutting the window, she lingers there for a second. She can see the steady rise and fall of his chest; and even if barely, can make out his face in the dim moonlight.

With a resigned sigh, she glides over to the futon. Taking the blanket out from under her arm, she spreads it out and puts it over his still figure. She is careful not to wake him as she slips under the covers. She does not dare touch him. She turns sideways and rests her hands on the pillow; facing away from him. She plans to stay until sunrise, then escape back into her own room. But someone has other plans.

A strong arm finds its way around her waist, and she feels herself being pulled closer to the boy she thought to be sleeping. She takes in a sharp gust of air as she finds herself now pressed against him. Neither of them moves. She concentrates on his rhythmic breaths, unsure if he is still sleeping or awake. In time, her frozen form slowly relaxes in her arms - now almost fully sure that he is sleeping.

She knows she must trust her instincts more often. She knows perfectly well that the wall of ice that surrounds her is by her own hand. She is her own sculptor. But in this moment –when all rational thoughts have been abandoned somewhere behind a door – she finds her opportunity to be person, rather than a statue.

Tentatively, she flips around under his arm so she is facing him. Her head tilts up to look at the peaceful face of the boy. His chocolate eyes are hidden behind heavy lids, but she imagines them looking back at her.

Slowly, succinctly, her lips brush against his, eliciting as much pressure as a falling feather would on the ground. Her eyes close, and she realizes that the frightening images of her dreams have also been left in her own room. Her lips linger on his, afraid to pull away, afraid that if she loses contact he will disappear before her. She feels his warm breath on her face, soothing her and burning her at the same time. Letting her hand travel to his face, she places it on the side of his cheek. Lips still touching slightly, she waits for sleep to overtake her again.

The arm around her tightens.

.

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_/a.n./ Please review! The little drabbles in this collection will all be short like this one; and hopefully I'll be able to update more frequently once summer comes along… Ja!_


	4. Surreptitious

/a.n./Phew! It's been a while since I wrote anything for the SK fandom! This idea just popped into my head at some odd hour of the morning so I though what the heck? This fic follows the manga, just to be clear. I tried to keep it lighthearted, to give myself a break from all the drama. Remember dear readers, reviews will be loved and cherished forever! Plus you'll get a delicious virtual cookie! Yum!

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**Surreptitious **

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Hana ran through the tall grass, the weeds tickling his ankles with each step. The breeze tangled his hair and made if fall in front of his eyes; forcing him to swipe a small hand over his forehead every once in a while. His laugh chimed in the wind, light and carefree as he whizzed through the trees, catching the occasional glimpses of birds trying to race with him.

He was lazy by nature, sure – but there had always been a special place reserved in his heart for running. Not the kind of running his mother made him do though. The kind he apparently _needed _to do. He didn't like strapping the weights to his ankles, or the time limitations. His father sometimes tried to soften him about that kind of running – deeming that he himself had to undergo that kind of "training" when he was young, and from the same trainer. Maybe slave driver was a more accurate term.

But _this _kind of running, when he could enjoy the feel of the wind licking at his face – ah yes, this he loved…

Finally exhausted by his own little game, he came to a gradual halt. Hushed murmurs reached his ears from where he stood amidst the shrubs. He swerved around a bit, only to see two figures huddled together a little way away. Crouching down beneath a wide oak tree, he peaked out from behind the trunk and peered intently at the spot where they sat.

He blushed a little as they came into focus. He always felt like he was interrupting something when he saw them like this; even if they were unaware of his presence. It was rare for them to be close openly; and whenever Hana saw them like this, it would make his cheeks redden. Maybe it was because he wasn't used to seeing them together as a couple, but there was something in the scene that made him feel like he was intruding a private occasion.

The man's head rested on the woman's lap, eyes closed as far as Hana could see. Her fingers were tangled in his chocolate brown hair, re-arranging the spikes. Her hair – blond, like his own – blew into her face. Hana watched as the man lifted his arm and brushed it away, letting his hand linger momentarily on her cheek. The woman raised her own hand and placing it atop his, leaned in.

Hana turned away immediately, resting his back against the broad trunk of the tree. His cheeks were scarlet by now. He had always found these kinds of moments between his parents to be quite…intimate. He didn't see much of them like this – but when he did, he understood. Even at age seven, he understood all the hidden meanings behind their actions.

His parents were like muffins, he concluded.

His father was like a soft muffin, with raisins and blueberries and nuts protruding from the sides. You could see exactly what he was made of, you just couldn't quite see how much of what he contained. His mother was a different story. She was like a crunchy muffin. Hard to bite into, but if you made the effort to – there was melted chocolate in it.

Peeking out from behind the trunk, Hana saw that his parents still lay in the exact same position as before. He smiled to himself. They were never like this in public, never so close to each other. Anybody looking from the outside would doubt they were even friends, let alone see that they were a married couple.

But Hana saw it. He saw it even when they tried exceptionally hard to mask it. It was there in the fleeting looks they sometimes exchanged, in the softening of their usually tense postures when they were around each other, it was there in the glances that trailed behind each other when they thought nobody was looking. Hana hadn't known them for a long time, but he had come to known them well. And even though they hadn't been his parents for long – he still loved them.

Everyone said that Tamao Nee-chan had taken after his mother. Maybe that was the reason he had been able to accept Anna as a mother so quickly – because there were so many similarities between the mother that he had grown up with, and the mother who had had to leave him as a baby.

She tried hard, he knew. She tried so hard to be the mother she had failed to be in the past, to make up for all the lost time. So did his father. Hana knew that they still felt guilty for having to leave him when he was so young. But he forgave them for it. He understood, though he still got mad at them every once in a while.

Moments like this made up for all the lost ones. When he saw them contended and peaceful like this, it made up for all the memories he didn't have with them.

They were here now, and that was all that mattered.

Tamao Nee-chan had been a good mother to him, and for that he was ever grateful. But there was something about his real mother that he hadn't been able to find with Tamao. He still couldn't fully place what that "something" was, but he could feel it in the smiles she gave him. Like these moments, her smiles were rare. Maybe that was what made them so special.

He risked another glance at their direction, and saw that they had changed positions. His father was propped up against a nearby tree, his mother leaning against his chest. Both of their eyes were closed.

Then, very slowly, his father's eyes opened. His mouth turned up into a grin as his eyes landed on Hana peeking out from behind the tree.

He winked at him. Hana returned the grin with one of his own, waved at him, and turned away – deciding to leave his parents to their privacy.

The edges of his grin lingered as he skipped along the trees once more. They were happy, and as long as they had smiles on their faces; he would be happy as well. Even if those smiles were hidden sometimes.


End file.
